by J. D. Light
Copyright © 2019 J.D. Light
Edited by Ann Attwood Editing and Proofreading Services
Chapter One
I didn't even bother looking at my friend as I grabbed several bags out of the back seat and turned toward the porch, knowing if I made eye contact with him, he was going to start griping. He was going to try to make me feel bad about my behavior, but that wasn't going to happen. The only thing I regretted about the whole situation was that I’d ended up smelling like pickle juice, and I'd forgotten to get another onion.
I set the groceries on the table and started unloading the bags as Braden made a slower trek into the house, his limp slowing him as he crossed the porch.
"You can't attack every random man who tries to talk to you, Malik," Braden finally said when he came to a stop beside the table, his hands on his hips.
Meyers came in behind him, a giant shit-eating grin on his face. He'd been wearing it since we left the grocery store. I still wasn't sure if it was because he was proud of me for what I did, or happy that his mate was going to start yelling at me.
"He was acting weird," I said, looking back down at what I was doing and making two piles. One for the refrigerator, and one for the pantry. "I didn't like it."
"He said hi, handsome," Braden said, his voice slowly rising. "How is that weird?"
Raising both of my eyebrows, I looked up at my friend, blinking… and then I pointed to the scarred-up half of my face.
Braden might not seem to notice my scars, but that didn't mean everyone else didn't.
He let out a frustrated growl, throwing his hands in the air. "You're ridiculous!"
"Thankfully, the man you attacked is a shifter," Meyers said, still smiling a bit too brightly. "His nose is already healed. It's a bit more crooked than it probably was, but he'll be fine.""
"Lucky him," I grumbled, pursing my lips.
"What the hell did you even hit him with?" Meyers asked, looking down at something on his phone, turning it to the side before laughingly spinning it so I could see the man on the screen. Both his eyes were black, his nose was noticeably crooked, and he had gauze sticking out of his nostrils.
I shrugged one shoulder, smirking just a little. "A jar of pickles."
Meyers nodded, jutting his chin like he was impressed. "For a thin guy, you're pretty wiry."
I hmphed, picking everything up that needed to go to the fridge, and walked over to open the door. If I'd been a little faster, I could have easily sliced him across the face with the broken bottle, but that River guy was pretty fast. I didn't even realize he'd come up behind me until he was wresting the pickle jar out of my hand, somehow without getting cut. He also managed to keep me from kicking him in the balls while he dragged me back toward the front of the store.
"Don't smile at him," Braden said, glaring at his mate. "He can't just attack people, Meyers."
Meyers quickly hid his mirth, going over and pulling his mate into his arms. "I know, baby, but it is kind of comforting to know he'll do it if he needs to."
"He didn't need to," Braden grumbled, but he still rubbed his face against Meyers’ chest, making something inside me ache. "He's going to have to learn the difference between when someone is trying to kidnap him and when someone is trying to hit on him."
I rubbed my chest, wondering if I needed an antacid or something, and closed the fridge, moving back over to the table.
Pausing to meet my friend’s gaze, I shrugged one shoulder. "Well, considering I've been kidnapped as many times as I've been hit on. My odds are fifty-fifty." I glared, starting to load my arms with items that needed to go in the pantry. "Why the hell was he hitting on me anyway? Where's Rowe? You think he's hungry?"
It was actually odd that he hadn't come out immediately. Though he didn't necessarily like going into town any more than I did, he was always quick to greet us when we got back. In fact, he usually carried most of the groceries inside.
"You are going to make him fat if you don't stop feeding him," Meyers grumbled, but I wasn't stupid, I knew the real reason he was mad was because I didn't cook for him nearly as often as I did his gorgeous partner with the stupid name.
"You heard him," I said from around the pantry door, unloading my arms and putting everything in its proper place. "He said he's always hungry. He needs food." Coming out, I walked to the living room, glancing around. "Rowe? Get in here and tell me what you want to eat."
"Have you been to see Decker this week?" Braden asked when I walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a rag. "You seem to have a lot of restless energy."
I ignored the question, wiping down the already clean counter. I had been to Decker a few days before, but my restless energy didn't have anything to do with the kidnapping, and everything to do with the man who walked into the room looking big and delicious and absolutely adorable... and a little guilty.
I don't know how I managed to keep a straight face as I took in the leather jacket he was wearing in July, zipped up nearly all the way. It was pretty obvious he had some kind of critter hidden away inside.
"What do you have?" I asked, licking my teeth when my lips started to twitch.
His eyes widened, and he blinked innocently. "Huh?"
I almost broke when Meyers snorted, but managed to keep my composure.
Raising an eyebrow, I stepped closer, not at all surprised when his gaze skittered away. "What are you trying to hide in your jacket?" Reaching up, I peeled back one of the sides and rocked up on my tiptoes to see. "Is that… Do you have a baby skunk in your shirt, Rowe?"
The black and white fur made it pretty obvious.
I looked up into the pleading emerald eyes of Rowe Belk––still a stupid fucking name––and felt my heart throb.
I didn't know what it was about the man, but I'd been pretty much smitten the moment I saw that picture of him standing next to Meyers, with a weird smile on his face and a tiny little kitten in his giant paws.
"The mom left him," he said quickly. "I couldn't pick up her scent anywhere."
"You know he should be with somebody who specializes in taking care of wildlife, right?" I asked, already knowing I was going to do everything I could to help him take care of the tiny little creature pressed up against his chest under a shirt and a leather jacket.
He nodded, his brow creasing. "I know. But he was cold, and the internet said you need to get them warm."
I stroked a finger over the bright white line on the little guy's forehead. "Damn, he's cute."
"You think he means Rowe or the skunk?" Meyers asked out of the corner of his mouth, making his mate laugh and Rowe blush.
Both. Definitely both.
"Meyers, we're going to need some milk replacer and a little bottle." I said on a sigh, suddenly realizing how close I was standing to Rowe when his bright eyes moved over my face. "And a heating pad."
I stepped back, not sure why I was suddenly feeling self-conscious about my damn face. I'd had countless people stare at me over the years, and it had never really bothered me. I tried to keep the side of my head covered most of the time where there was a hole but no ear, but normally, I didn't even bother trying to hide my face.
Normally, I didn't stand so damn close to men I had the hots for.
"We're raising a skunk?" Meyers asked incredulously. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I could go," I offered, smirking. "If you want."
"No," he said quickly, unwinding his arms from around his mate and taking his hand, before going over and grabbing his keys off the counter by the door. "Axel is going to ban us from the streak lands if you don't stop maiming his people, and the fact that we only shop on streak lands is what is helping to keep you and Braden safe."
"Who's going to keep us safe from the streak?" I grumbled under my breath, glaring. Glancing back up at Rowe, I asked, "what do you want to eat?"
He blushed, again, and I almost groaned out loud. "Do you still have the stuff to make enchiladas?" he asked shyly, a small smile on his face.
"What about what we want?" Meyers grumbled, but I ignored him.
"Rowe needs more food than you do. He has bigger muscles." I reached up, poking one of the big guy’s biceps, a little sad I couldn’t see them through his thick jacket. "I don't want you picking something he won't like and then him not eating it."
"My muscles are pretty big," Meyers pouted, looking down at his own chest and flexing one, just to prove his point.
Braden reached up and cupped his man's pec, giggling when he flexed it for him again, and I rolled my eyes.
I met Meyers’ gaze, looking at him from under my eyebrows, with a snotty smirk. "His are bigger."
Rowe snorted, and then immediately started cooing at the little creature that had been sleeping against his chest when it became restless.
"He really is cute," Braden said, stretching his neck to peek at the little critter.
"Let's go, baby. I want to get back before it gets dark."
Braden gave me a knowing look as Meyers dragged him out the front door and I almost flipped him off.
***
As was his habit lately anytime we were sitting around the house, Rowe was staring at me. I didn't know whether he was just not aware he was doing it, or if he thought I couldn’t feel his eyes on me, but he did it more often than not, and I was trying really hard not to get defensive, but it was definitely a struggle.
I had scars. They were old scars, but since they were burn scars, they were pretty obvious to anyone who looked at me. And everyone looked. Some would try not to stare, but their eyes were always drawn back to my face, while others just openly stared.
It didn't really bother me. I knew it was just curiosity, and it was actually really rare for someone to openly look disgusted by my appearance.
It was only half of my face. Not even really that. The bottom half of the left side of my face, my left ear and a little into my hairline right above my ear, my neck, the top of my left arm and my left pec had gotten the worst of it.
The skin was pink in some areas, but for the most part it just looked like wrinkly-old-man skin. The outer corner of my left eye turned down slightly, the corner of my mouth looked like it was being pulled by an invisible force, and my left nostril was collapsed and misshapen.
In all honesty, I really felt pretty blessed that it hadn’t been worse. It could have been. It could have been a lot worse. My sister or I, either one could have died, and I'd seen first-hand some of the less fortunate people in that burn unit.
Rowe was sitting to my left, so of course he was getting a full-on view of the destruction that could be done by one of nature's greatest forces.
I'd almost sat on the other side of him in the rocking chair just so I wouldn't be sitting there like I was wondering what he was thinking as he continued to just stare at me, but I knew I needed to get ahold of this weird need I had to hide away, when I'd never been like that before.
"You know, staring at someone's disfigurement is rude, right?" I asked, turning my head slightly to face him.
"What?" he asked, stilling from where he'd been absently running his finger over the tiny skunk's head, still wearing that leather jacket, and probably sweating his ass off.
"They're not from something traumatic or anything," I told him, smiling at the confused look on his face. "Though, I guess one might argue that catching yourself on fire when you were nine is, in itself a bit traumatic, but believe it or not, it was just an accident."
"What?"
I frowned narrowing my eyes. "My scars. I just thought you might be wondering what they were from."
His eyes widened comically, and he shook his head quickly. "Oh. I'm sorry. I wasn't… That's not what I was thinking. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
He looked so surprised and worried, and somehow, I knew he was genuine.
But if he wasn't always staring at my scars, what was he looking at?
"Um… How did you get them?" he asked quietly.
He was watching me again. His eyes moving over my face.
Scooting closer and turning toward him on the couch, I gave him a small smile and an eye roll, letting him know that I wasn't torn up by the story. I didn't want him to think it was some tragic tale. It had just been a stupid accident. And completely my fault.
"My sister and I used to have a clubhouse in the back yard. It was just a structure, so of course it didn't have electricity or running water or anything like that. We decided one day that we were going to sleep in there, but we knew our parents wouldn't let us, so we waited until they went to bed and took some candles and blankets and went and hung out. I got up in the middle of the night to go pee out the door." I smirked, watching the laughter enter his eyes. "Because we were really classy like that, I put my candle down too close to the blanket and it caught fire. I was still half asleep and didn't notice until I turned back around. I started yelling and picked up the blanket, trying to flip it over, but it flipped up instead and stuck to the side of my face and chest and melted there. My sister woke up and managed to put me out, but yeah. They had to put me out to get the melted blanket out of my skin. And a couple infections took my ear, some more skin on my face and neck, and one of my nipples."
That was maybe the hardest part to admit. It was just an ear and a nipple, hardly a limb or anything like that, but it was proof that I really was disfigured like I'd said. The skin that everyone saw might be discolored and raised, but it was still where it was supposed to be.
My ear was just a hole. They'd decided to take the lobe, which had gotten infected, rather than have the infection spread any further. I'd been lucky not to have damage down in the canal.
"Were you in the hospital a long time?" he asked, swiveling further toward me, pressing a hand over his precious cargo to lean forward and look more closely at the scars on my cheek.
"Not as long as some. A little over a week the first time. But I had to go back when I got infected."
He surprised me by reaching up and brushing his finger tip over my cheek and down the side of my face, his concentration on where his fingers were. "I'm sorry you had to go through that pain."
I felt like maybe the biggest tragedy of the whole situation was the fact that I couldn't fully feel his fingers against my skin, just the pressure of his touch.
"They kept me drugged for the most part," I whispered, letting my eyes close for a moment, wishing he'd touch the other side so I could feel it.
"It still must have hurt." His breath brushed over my face, and I blinked my eyes open, finding those dark emerald orbs.
Licking his lips, he swallowed hard, slowly pulling his hand away, the look on his face surprised as he blinked down at me, still holding on to that tiny skunk like he was afraid it was going to fall out of the little nest he'd made it from his shirt and jacket.
"So," I said, nodding to the tiny black and white bundle. "How long did it say we have until this little guy gets stinky?"
"Within the next few days, so we better get him used to us before then."
Chapter Two
I'd been trying to stop staring at Malik so much, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, but I never could keep my gaze off of him for very long.
He always seemed to know too, because he would turn and look at me every single time, and I'd blush like an idiot and look away.
I was pleasantly surprised at just how easy it was to have a conversation with him though. There was something about Malik that not only made it easier to talk to him, but it was almost like he dragged a conversation out of me without me even realizing I was talking.
I still blushed almost constantly, but that had a lot to do with how pretty his bright blue eyes were, or his crooked smile.
"D
arrin Clay," Meyers grumbled, drawing my attention away from where I was watching Malik as he talked to the little skunk he had curled up against his chest, under his shirt. "Why does that name sound familiar?"
He'd taken him from me when we got to the warehouse, knowing I had some things I needed to do. His fingertips had brushed against my skin as he lifted the tiny creature, and I'd shuddered as he cooed to the yawning critter as he readjusted him and got him comfortable.
I'd of course stood there staring at him for far too long, and he'd looked up at me with patience in his eyes and that half smile on his sexy lips, finally shooing me off to join Meyers when I just kept blinking at him like I had no idea what was what.
"Go on Rowe," he'd said, reaching out with one hand and grabbing my elbow, spinning me toward the soundproof room where Meyers had already gone in while I stood around staring. "You know what an impatient dick he can be."
He yelled that last part at the still open door, and Meyers didn't even glance up as he flipped my mate off.
I grunted, not sure I liked that. I knew he was joking, but my mate deserved respect.
I gasped and grunted again when I felt his hand settle on my lower back, giving me a gentle push.
I loved it when he touched me. He'd been doing it more and more often, and it made me smile each time, because I knew he and Braden tended to be a bit clingy to each other sometimes and I knew that was because they’d had to rely on each other for so long. I felt like it meant he maybe trusted me.
I cleared my throat, trying not to think about how fond I was of the man already and tried to focus on what I was supposed to be talking to Meyers about.
"He sometimes works with Grayson and Recker," I said, looking over at Meyers' frowning face. "In fact, I think I saw his name on the agent list for the Bunker Bust."
"Bunker Bust?" Meyers asked dryly, looking absolutely unimpressed with me.
I shrugged, chuckling. I hadn't been the one to come up with it, but I knew even Meyers' adorable mate Braden wouldn't lighten him up enough to enjoy a good alliteration,
